


Summer Night Dream

by Lutefiskfisk



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Nichorello, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 05:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16927593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lutefiskfisk/pseuds/Lutefiskfisk
Summary: "Imagining a hairy little bambino popping out of your vajayjay is not exactly the stuff of masturbatory fantasies." - so what is?





	Summer Night Dream

As you lie in your bed, you close your eyes, completing the darkness that was already surrounding you. You imagine you were somewhere else. On a beach. Perhaps on one of the many that you've been to as a kid and that you never fully appreciated. Or on fucking Bora Bora Bora (yeah, you're adding that extra _Bora_ because you've gotten _that_ soft in the brain), since that's where _she_ likes to be. Or maybe on a meadow in the countryside where you've spent the day picnicking underneath a tree or whatevertheshit. Or in the backseat of a convertible. The specifics aren't important, but it's nice and warm and you're looking up at the starlit sky and you're taking in the summery scents of wood and grass and you're all alone, except for _her_.

She smiles down at you in that sweet, adoring way of hers that makes you feel like she somehow sees more in you than just the fucked-up waste of space that you are, and it feels like home, like a future, like something to keep going for. Your breath quickens in anticipation and you press your hand against your throbbing center as you imagine her sitting in your lap, straddling you. You reach up, yearning to place your hands around her tiny waist, but before you get there, she takes your wrists into her warm hands and pins them down above your head.

"Nuh-uh, tonight, you're mine," she says, grinning devilishly, and you're bucking your hips, clenching your pelvic muscles in desperate need of some friction down there. In the real world, you could never give up control like that, but here, in this fantasy, you're free of the demons of your past, allowed to let go. And so you nod, impossibly turned on by the thought that she's about to have her way with you.

"Yeah, all yours," you whisper, and as your hand snakes underneath your shirt, you imagine it's _her_ hand that touches you, _her_ fingertips that gently caress your skin as they wander up, further and further, and then her hand is on your tit, squeezing gently before it moves, stroking, massaging. Her other hand travels along your side and her touch is so soft that it tickles lightly, and the sensation sends a shudder down your spine. The hand on your tit glides down the slope of it and up the other, until it finds its way to your nipple. You hum with satisfaction as her thumb swirls around the hardening bud, and then her fingers take hold of it, pinching and twisting, and you let out a soft moan.

"C'mere, please," you say breathlessly. "I wanna feel you."

You don't beg, as a matter of principle, but in this world, where that stubborn sense of pride has no meaning, you _do_ , and, in fact, you're not ashamed to admit that you'd go through all nine circles of hell and back for just one touch of her. You roll onto your belly, hugging your pillow to yourself and pressing your center into the mattress, but in your mind, she leans down to you and you hold her tight. You feel her weight on top of you and you wish that you could be trapped underneath her like this, engulfed in her, forever. She smiles sweetly, cupping your face in her hands, before she slowly licks across your lips. You feel her warm breath on your face and it makes you tremble all over. Her tongue parts your lips and then she kisses you, softly at first, but with increasing fervor as your lips and tongues explore, caress, and you both are softly panting and moaning, and the air you exhale mixes between the two of you. Your hands run up and down the silky skin on her back and she parts your legs with her knee. She presses it against your crotch and you start to rub yourself against it. It amuses her, judging by the giggle that she lets out against your lips.

"You're so cute," she says as she looks down at you, her fingertips trailing down your cheek, and you're lost for words. She's so beautiful, and you see acceptance there, and understanding, and you wish that you could have her all around you, that you could be inside her, where you belong and where you're safe.

She seems to know because she's moving up your body, pressing soft kisses to your nose, your forehead, the crown of your head. As you burrow your face into the fabric of your pillow, you imagine that her hand slips underneath the back of your head, pressing you deeper into that warm skin of hers while your head is safely tucked under her chin. You deeply inhale her scent. It's sweet and delicious, like vanilla, and it calms you down, makes you feel secure.

"I love you," you mumble what might be an adequate summary of your emotions, but really doesn't even come close.

"I know," she whispers and her hand gently runs through your hair. "I love you, too, baby. I love you so much."

You lower your head, burrowing into her, wanting to be impossibly closer, wanting to have her all over, wanting to become a part of her. She kisses the top of your head once more and then moves further up, and you kiss every inch of skin that you can reach, making her pant your name and eliciting those familiar moans, and it's music to your ears, as her tits slide over your face, and then her stomach; and then, her heat, her arousal, that irresistible scent of hers, comes closer and closer...

And then, in the bed next to yours, that cow McAllister lets out an almighty snore and all of a sudden, your eyes are wide open and you find yourself back in that shabby old cell that you share with seven other women. You're still panting and still shaking, but the realization of where you are has irrevocably killed the mood.

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, frustrated, as you remove your hand from between your legs and roll onto your back. And you realize how different your reality is from that sweet fantasy of yours. You still have to spend another one and a half years in this shithole, and the woman who has somehow managed to break down (most of) your defenses and is holding your heart captive might be only a few miles away, and yet, the two of you are insurmountably separated by the walls and barbed wire in between, and it's well possible that you'll never see her again.

A tear trickles down your cheek, but you don't have the strength to wipe it away.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, yikes. But if it's of any consolation, I have another fic in the making that's hopefully more on the fluffier side.
> 
> And, yeah, I realize that I'm kind of developing a theme in which the characters lie in bed. It's not intentional, but whatever, lol. 
> 
> Writing from second-person POV was something that's new to me. Wish I could say that it was for the challenge of it, but, honestly, I just thought that it'd sound weird in third-person POV, so... I hope it's working out. 
> 
> As always, I appreciate your feedback!


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